


lighten up, it's college!

by luminoussbeings



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10452618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminoussbeings/pseuds/luminoussbeings
Summary: Freshman Natasha struggles navigating classes and love life.Her cousin, Sonya, would help, but she's preoccupied with that chance encounter with sorority queen Helene.Deathly shy Mary falls in love from afar with that girl she sees from her corner of the library, never getting the courage to speak to her.Basketball star Fedya, long suffering best friend of frat boy extraordinare Anatole, can't deny his feelings any longer.Drama, scandal, and friendship abounds in this mess of an au





	

College wasn’t going exactly as Natasha had planned, but she was determined not to let it bring her down.

Her cement cell- sorry, dorm- was a far cry from the beautiful ivy covered building they’d shown her on the tour last year. (Natasha had yet to grasp the concept of a housing lottery.) Still, once she’d hung colorful posters over the brown stains adorning the walls and gotten used to the pervasive scent of stale weed, she’d decided that with proper decorations and a positive attitude, the space was salvageable. And when her roommate arrived, they could bond over their shared disgust with the room and embark on a lifelong friendship culminating in tearful maid of honor speeches at each other’s weddings.

Or something like that.

Yes, the room might not be perfect, but with her brand new best friend, she’d make it work. She’d flopped down on the rubbery mattress, checked her phone (Andrey was supposed to call) and waited for her roommate to arrive.

And waited.

And waited.

Eventually she’d approached the bored looking RA in the common room, who told her that she was in luck- her roommate had transferred out at the last minute, leaving Natasha with the room to herself. Congratulations.

For the rest of the day, Natasha fought to keep the smile on her face. So what if she was stuck living in an asbestos-filled cinderblock? At least she’d never need to worry about finding a bomb shelter; the walls of her building were probably thick enough to withstand a nuclear blast. And who cared if she didn’t have a roommate? Now she had the whole room to herself; after all, she could always make friends elsewhere. And so what if the food had the texture of rubber or her boyfriend was ignoring her or it was a twenty minute walk just to get to class? All these troubles were simply building character.

But by the time Sonya had stopped by her room to pick her up for the party, Natasha was exhausted. As much as she tried to stay optimistic, her first day of freshman year was definitely not going how she’d hoped. And when she saw her cousin’s cheery face in the doorway, it took all her strength to muster up one last fake smile.

Sonya chattered away as they drove, telling Natasha about the freshmen in the dorm she supervises, about the party they were going to- making it clear that Natasha should not get any ideas about joining a sorority, and Sonya really shouldn’t even be taking her to this party tonight, what was she thinking- until Natasha had to claim a headache and ask delicately for a little bit of quiet. Sonya seemed to understand.

Natasha could hear the house before they reached it. The thudding bass reverberated through the whole block and set her teeth on edge. Cold panic trickled into her stomach and she wondered to god why she’d begged Sonya so hard to take her. Oh, right. She’d been set on having the full “college experience,” starting with a good old fashioned frat party. Though she’d only been a college student for a few hours, she already wanted to punch her high school self.

Sonya grabbed her arm as they walked up the steps, drawing Natasha in close in order to be heard over the music. “Be safe! Never put your drink down! Stay away from senior boys! Find me when you’re ready to go, okay?” Natasha rolled her eyes and assured her she’d be careful. Satisfied, Sonya pushed through the door, looking back to make sure Natasha was following. Natasha couldn’t help but smile. Sonya could be a little overprotective sometimes, but it felt nice to be protected, to have someone watching out for her. She straightened her back and took a breath, then followed her cousin through the door. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

* * *

 

Sonya surveyed the packed room, standing awkwardly in the sweaty throng of dancers and couples making out. Twice had thoroughly inebriated men approached her and tried to press cups of warm beer into her hands; twice had she politely refused them.

She watched Natasha chat easily with a perky blonde who pulled her into the dancers, spinning her around and then passing her to a boy with an undercut and suspenders. She chuckled. Wherever Natasha went, everyone inevitably fell in love with her. Sonya wished, not for the first time, that she’d been born with half of the natural charm her that cousin was so blessed with.

This wasn’t her usual scene. Not that this was Sonya’s first party- this was her third year at school, and she’d been to her fair share of them, although often times dragged along by a friend who didn’t want to go alone- but she had never been truly comfortable at them. Something about sororities unnerved her- she wasn’t sure if it was their infamous reputations, or their exclusiveness, or the fact that groups of beautiful girls lived and breathed together as one unit, closer than sisters- but they’d always fascinated and terrified her.

Sometimes she entertained fantasies of joining one, but she would always quickly squash the thought. She- Sonya Rostova- a sorority girl? Tell anyone on the campus that, and they’d burst out laughing. Everyone knew Sonya was the good girl, the tame one, the hardworking elementary education major who bakes cupcakes for the freshmen and tutors at the library, the one who’d never so much as tasted a drop of alcohol in her college career. Sororities were for a different type of girl, the type like-

“Helene!” A tall boy brushed past her, and with a start, she realized it was Fedya Dolokhov, _the_ Dolokhov, the sophomore star who’d singlehandedly led the basketball team to victory at the national championships last year. His good looks and athletic prowess had made him a veritable campus hero, and Sonya stared after him with the odd feeling that she’d just met a celebrity.

“ _Helene_!” Dolokhov continued. Sonya surreptitiously followed him, curious to see who this Helene could be that Dolokhov was so preoccupied with. Hanging back at the edges of the crowd, she watched as he pulled aside a willowy brunette speaking with a friend. “Helene, have you heard from your brother yet? I know it’s only the first day, but after what happened last year, you’d think he’d be more responsible-”

“Dolokhov, relax,” Helene drawled, pressing a lazy finger against his chest. “You, of all people, should know well enough by now that ‘Anatole’ and ‘responsible’ never fit into the same sentence.”

Dolokhov tensed, pushing Helene’s arm aside. “What’s that supposed to mean, _me_ of all people? What are you getting at?” Helene just winked, and then elbowed Dolokhov out of the way.

“Come on, Fedya. I didn’t throw this party because I wanted to be burdened with your needless fretting about my brother. I threw it to dance.” And ignoring Dolokhov’s protests, she headed for the crowd of dancers.

Sonya was fascinated. Helene must be Helene Kuragin, the notorious president of the Gamma Chi sorority, legendary for the most raucous parties and the most run-ins with campus security. Somehow she’d always pictured Helene as a pageant queen or a bubbly airhead, but not like this. She’d never expected the sharpness of Helene’s eyes, or the softness of her lips…. She shook her head. Why was that relevant? In the alcohol scented din of the party, she was beginning to feel a little woozy.

She turned her attention back to Helene, who was rapidly approaching the throng of dancers. Rapidly approaching…her. Sonya barely had time to widen her eyes in alarm before Hélène had grabbed her arm and dragged her back into the middle of the pack. “You! Dance with me!” She shouted over the bass, pulling Sonya along as the crowd pulsed with the music.

“Wh-what? I- I should…” Sonya’s words were swallowed by the crowd.

“I can’t hear you!” Helene called, spinning Sonya before pulling her in close, close enough that their noses touched, close enough that Sonya was sure Helene could hear her heart freight training through her chest. “There,” she said. “Now what did you have to say?”

“I…” Sonya tried to focus, but the freckles across Helene’s nose were making that difficult. “I should go. My cousin…It’s almost midnight….” She trailed off lamely, and with a hot flush of embarrassment, yanked herself out of Helene’s grip and pushed away through the crowd. She spotted Natasha chatting with the undercut guy and grabbed her, ignoring her protests. When they reached the doorway, Sonya allowed herself one last glance- with a rush; she saw Helene was still watching her.

When they made eye contact, Helene pursed her lips into a mock pout and called out above the crowd, “Bye bye, Cinderella!” Her face burning, Sonya hightailed it for her car.

* * *

Natasha’s first week of classes passed in a blur. The twenty minute walk suddenly didn't seem so long when she was walking with her new crowd of friends: there was Boris, and Julie, and Anna and Michael and seeming countless others- Natasha had never laughed more, or had this many friends. She was beginning to grow accustomed to the rubbery food, and even her dorm room had started to feel more like home.

Andrey still hadn't called.

She distracted herself with her classes. She liked her professors- especially Professor Marya for literature, who put up a strict front but whose smile betrayed secret warmth.

She'd been looking forward to her philosophy class all week-not because she had any particular interest in philosophy, but because it was her only class with Sonya. They hadn't gotten the chance to talk since the party, and Natasha was dying to find out what had happened. When she'd pestered Sonya on the ride home about that girl and why she'd called her "Cinderella," Sonya had only blushed and claimed nothing had happened before quickly changing the subject. Natasha didn't believe that for a second, but she thought it best to give her cousin some space.

Well, Sonya had had a week's worth of space. Now Natasha was starving for the gossip.

She spotted Sonya in the third row of the lecture hall. Natasha plunked down next to her, handed Sonya a coffee as a peace offering, then settled her chin on her hands and gave her cousin an expectant look.

"What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Sonya. You gotta give me at least _something_ ,” Natasha whined. “Who was she? What happened between you?"

"Nothing! It was no one, honest. Were you always this nosy?"

"But I brought you _coffee_.”

"That's true," Sonya conceded, taking a long sip and sighing. "Okay, fine; but there's really nothing to tell. Her name is Helene, I didn't even tell her mine. We just danced, and then I said I had to go."

" _What_! Why would you do that? She obviously liked you, and you just left without a word?”

"No, no, it wasn't anything like that. She doesn't like me that way. I think she just wanted to make a point to her friend."

"Oh," Natasha said, slightly crestfallen. "Well, she might not like you yet, but she will. Look, she's only a few rows behind us- go talk to her!"

" _What_?" Sonya whipped around and just as quickly turned back to facing straight ahead, her face flushed. "Oh, god. Oh no. She probably saw me looking! She probably thinks I'm in love with her!" Sonya's hand crept to the back of her head. "Christ, has my hair always been this frizzy? This is not good. Nat, we should get new seats- stop looking at me like that!"

Natasha burst out laughing. "Sonya's got a crushhhh!"

Sonya smacked her arm. "Shut up! I do _not_! I just happen to think she's a beautiful and successful woman and don't want her to think badly of me."

Before Natasha could think of a rebuttal, the sleepy looking professor approached the podium and signaled for quiet. "Good morning, class. Today we will begin an introduction to —'s philosophy on the human morality. As early as pre-Hellenistic civilizations, concepts of good versus evil, light versus dark, life versus death have plagued societies, leading to the development of..."

The longer the professor droned on and on, the harder it was for Natasha to pay attention. Twice she caught herself almost slip into a doze, her mind growing foggier and foggier in the sluggish humidity of the room. She glanced around the hall; most everyone had adopted an expression more glazed than an Easter ham. Blearily, she checked her watch. Good god- there was still an hour left of the class. Settling back in the chair, she supposed that a small nap couldn't hurt.

And then she felt it- a rush of cold air.

The door opened behind her, and a boy entered the hall.

Her first thought was how handsome he was. Tall and muscular, with a shock of blond locks framing his chiseled jaw, Natasha imagined he could’ve passed for a roman god. The rest of the room must have agreed, or at least been shaken awaken by the fresh air, because the newcomer’s arrival breathed new life into the classroom. A tall boy sitting near Helene nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw the arrival, and the rest of the students smacked their friends and whispered to each other behind their hands, not bothering to hide their unabashed stares.

"Who is that?" Natasha hissed to Sonya, who, with her gaze fixed on Helene, seemed to be the only one immune to the boy’s charms.

"Huh? What?"

"Never mind," she sighed, turning back to the newcomer– He was looking right at Natasha. Her heart pounded and the suddenly room felt suffocatingly hot. She forced her gaze downward, pretending to take notes, and then risked another glance behind her. He was still staring at her; this time, with a rush of adrenaline, she stared back. A smile played at the corners of his lips and they held eye contact until he took his seat next to Helene and the other boy, the latter who promptly launched into a furiously whispered tirade, to which the newcomer paid no attention. His indolent gaze had settled back on Natasha and she shivered, turning to the front and forcing herself to pay attention to the professor, to not look back.

The class slowly returned to its previous state of vacancy, the heat sapping any energy the newcomer's arrival might have brought. But then, as the professor was almost ready to dismiss them, he said the magic words: "Partner project."

The effect was instantaneous. People grabbed at each other's hands and shot out of their seats, clamoring to be with the smart kids or their best friends or significant others. Natasha had turned to Sonya to ask to be partners when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Her stomach seizing with excitement and fear, she twisted slowly, locking eyes with the handsome newcomer. Behind him, the tall boy scowled and turned to a smirking Helene.

"Would you like to be my partner?" His voice was fluid and honey-like, and Natasha found herself captivated by those golden curls. They needed a trim, and fell in his eyes too often to be an accident; it was strangely endearing. He was watching her expectantly, and she flushed, realizing she'd forgotten to respond.

"Oh- I’m sorry, but my cousin-" She turned to Sonya, who widened her eyes and shook her head before turning to work with a friend on her left. Gazing helplessly around the room, she realized they were the only two left. Swallowing, she gave him a weak smile “Sure?”

"Perfect," he said, flashing a dazzling grin and extending a hand. "Anatole Kuragin."

"Natasha Rostova," she said. His hand was warm and dry and the handshake lasted a beat too long. She pulled away awkwardly. Anatole didn't seem to notice; he was scrawling something on a post it and then pressing it into her hand.

"Here's my number. Text me tomorrow and we can figure out a time to work on it, yeah?"

"Okay," she said. "Yeah, I'll do that."

Anatole beamed and spun back around, meeting up with the tall boy and Helene before sauntering out the door.

Natasha stared at the number in her hand, bewildered by the storm of feelings inside her. It didn’t help when Sonya sidled up to her, waggling her eyebrows playfully. “Fuck you, Sonya! Making me to work with him like that, that was so not cool.”

Sonya laughed and swung an arm around Natasha’s shoulders as they walked out. “Oh, come on. I can’t be the only one being teased for a crush, where’s the fairness in that?”

“What? I do not have a crush, Sonya I already have a boyfriend- wait! So you do admit you like Helene!”

Sonya just smiled cagily. “Oh, please, Natasha. And we both know Andrey doesn’t really count- you guys barely even touched! You went on ‘dates’ to the library!”

“Hey, he used to kiss my forehead sometimes!” Natasha cried defensively. “And what’s wrong with the library?”

Sonya just shook her head. “How many times has he called you since you both left for school? Three times? Twice? Once?” Seeing the look on Natasha’s face, she stopped. “Oh my god, he hasn’t even called at all. Nat, long distance relationships require a lot of dedication on both sides. Wouldn’t it be easier to just move on to other fish in the sea? Fish that are clearly taken by you, in a sea that’s not halfway across the country?”

Natasha laughed uncomfortably. “You overestimate my charms, cousin dearest.” But she couldn’t help but see the truth in Sonya’s words. She’d never really felt anything for Andrey, save for a mild affection, and she was pretty sure that was mutual.

But Anatole- she thought of his hungry gaze, the way he’d looked at her like she was something special, something to be desired- and she knew for certain that he was enraptured by her. The feeling was bizarre and thrilling- to be the object of someone’s yearning, to be wanted- it made her feel powerful.

It made her crave more.

It made her text his number bright and early the next day, setting up a time for the library.

It made her squeeze into a pair of too-tight shorts that really should’ve been thrown away ages ago, but she’d kept them anyway because she knew they made her butt look fantastic.

It made her a ball of nerves and exhilaration as she met Anatole at the library, her heart seizing with vanity and fear as she felt his gaze sweep over her approvingly. She’d heard that love was supposed to be safe and predictable, but this- this dangerous dance, this volatile waltz- it was more intense than anything she’d ever felt before, closer to feeling something than she’d ever felt with Andrey.

* * *

Mary sat in the library, her stomach growling. Sighing, she pulled a protein bar from her bag, trying to remember when she’d had her last hot meal. That’s right- it was the first day of classes, when she’d steeled her courage to enter the crowded cafeteria, then nearly fainted at the sight in front of her- the whole room stuffed with big round tables, filled with people mingling and laughing. She’d stood there, clutching her slice of pizza for so long, her heart pounding. Could she just choose any table to sit at? What if she accidentally took someone’s spot? Her head had started to spin and eventually she’d sprinted to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall, wolfing down the pizza before letting a few tears escape. That day, after pulling herself together and telling herself that this year would not be a repeat of high school, that she’d come to college to be happier, she’d walked to the campus convenience store and cleared out the supply of granola bars and cereal.

She hadn’t been back to the cafeteria since.

Her roommate Lisa had tried to cajole Mary into joining her and her friends, but after she had refused the first few times, Lisa had eventually stopped asking. Mary liked Lisa; the bubbly blonde was well meaning and good-hearted. But Mary knew that she’d never understand; the one time Lisa had questioned her about why she only ate granola bars, Mary had answered her honestly that the crowded, noisy cafeteria made her feel like a pit of vipers were nesting in her stomach. Lisa had stared at her blankly, asking how something as benign as a dining hall could make her anxious. Cafeterias were great! You could meet new friends and laugh and socialize!

Mary, realizing telling the truth had been a mistake, had forced a laugh and said she’d only been kidding; that she was staying away to avoid the freshman fifteen. For some reason, this seemed to make sense to Lisa, who’d nodded knowingly and wished her luck.

In her stomach, the vipers felt like they were molting.

In time, the library became her sanctuary. In its quiet peace and comforting smell, like an old attic, she finally felt like she could breathe, for the first time since coming to college. It was always empty enough that she was never forced to talk to anyone, and none of the librarians cared if she ate at the tables.

After she finished the granola bar, she looked into her bag and frowned. That had been the last peanut butter flavored one; all she was down to now was oatmeal raisin. She’d have to stock up soon. Sighing, she looked back up, and made eye contact with the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen.

Mary’s heart froze and she quickly looked down. After a minute, when she risked another peek, the girl had moved on, and was reading a poster about the consequences of plagiarism while checking her watch.

Relieved, although slightly disappointed, Mary relaxed and allowed herself a minute to marvel at the girl before her. She was tall, far taller than Mary, and softer too, with curves that made her head spin. The girl dressed like she knew this, in a tight yellow tank that popped against her brown skin and hugged her waist. Dark curls piled on the top of her head in a messy bun and her lips were a rose pink that matched her fingernails.

Suddenly, pink was Mary’s favorite color.

She looked down again, a small smile building on her face. Maybe this girl would come into the library every day. Maybe she’d look over and smile at Mary. Maybe, after a month or so of friendly eye contact, Mary would have the strength to say hi to her when she came in, and they’d gradually become best friends (or hopefully something more).

She’d almost had herself convinced, and a bright flame of hope grew in her chest. Then the library door clanged open and a boy headed straight for the girl.

Mary felt herself sinking. Maybe they’re just friends, she thought desperately.

“Natasha!” The boy called. Natasha spun around, her face lighting up into a smile that made Mary’s chest ache.

“Anatole, hey! I was thinking we could work at these tables, if that’s okay?” Anatole agreed, still staring at Natasha with a hunger that made Mary feel sick.

She knew at once that they weren’t just friends, or at least they wouldn’t be for long. Mary eyed Anatole’s abundant use of hair gel and his Ralph Lauren outfit- she knew his type, and he scared the hell out of her. She wanted to burst up to Natasha and tell her to run, to tell her that no matter what these boys said, they’d never truly care about her. To tell her that she deserved more, someone better. That Mary desperately wanted to be that someone.

But instead she just sat at her table, watching Natasha and Anatole flirt from across the room, the granola bar turning to lead in her stomach.

* * *

Sonya’s phone buzzed as she headed towards the student center. Natasha.

 _Are you free to hang out?_ Balancing her coffee in the crook of her elbow, she managed to type a quick response.

_Sorry! Tutoring until 6. Another time?_

_Sure!_

Satisfied, she shoved her phone back into the pocket of her jeans and was congratulating herself on her dexterity when her foot caught on the steps and she went flying, spilling the lukewarm pumpkin spice latte all over her sweater.

Perfect.

She checked her watch and groaned. There wasn’t enough time to run home and change before tutoring; she’d have to make do with using the hand dryers in the bathroom. It helped a little bit, but her shirt was still damp and smelled like a candle by the time she showed up at the tutoring office.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Sonya said, still blotting her front with a paper towel. “I spilled my coffee, and I-” She looked up and her stomach dropped to the floor.

Helene was sitting at the table, smiling unperturbedly. A million thoughts raced through Sonya’s mind. She’d been desperate to see Helene again, but not like this. She’d pictured herself striding to class, perfectly made up, her auburn hair in a sleek coiffure as Helene watched her pass in awe. Definitely not like this, with her hair thrown back in a messy ponytail and coffee dripping down the front of her cardigan.

“No worries,” said the other girl, oblivious to the hurricane of feelings she’d unleashed in Sonya.

“I…I, uh, what are you doing here?” _Smooth, Sonya,_ she silently berated herself.

“I’m here to be tutored! You are a tutor, right?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry,” Sonya glanced down at her clipboard, flustered. “You’re here for French?”

“Yep,” said Helene. “I’ve been taking it this semester to get ready for a study abroad, but apparently Madame Marcia thinks a garbage truck would have better pronunciation than me. That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? I mean, I’ve only taken it for a couple weeks!”

Sonya gave a weak smile and sat down across from her. “ Wow, your shirt is really soaked. You sure you don’t want to run home and change? I can wait.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, really. Besides, my building is all the way on the freshman quad; it’d take me at least twenty minutes just to get over there.” Sonya knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

But Helene still seemed interested, leaning forward and looking at her more closely. “You live on the freshman quad? But you’re a junior, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m an RA.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Helene nodded, leaning back in her chair. “I should’ve guessed it- what doesn’t Sonya Rostova do?” Sonya tried to ignore the thrill in her stomach as Helene said her name. Helene knew her name. Helene knew her name. “Hey, my house is right down the block. You can come change at my place quick, if you want.”

Sonya thought she might pass out. Taking a breath, she managed to squeak out a polite refusal and bring the subject back to French. Well, Madame Marcia hadn’t been exaggerating- Helene’s pronunciation really was atrocious.

“Helene! An ‘é’ makes the ay sound, not ‘e’!” Sonya repeated, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“I know, I know, it’s just a habit.”

“Okay, repeat after me. _Charmante_.”

“ _Charmante_ ,” repeated Helene.

“ _Excellent_!” Sonya smiled. “Now something longer. _Vous êtes tellement belle et charmante_.”

“ _Vous êtes tellement belle et charmantay._ Aghhh!” Helene cried. “I almost had it.”

“Hey, you did well today, _je suis très fière de toi.”_ said Sonya, giving Helene a high five and trying to ignore the tingling up her spine when their fingers met. “If you want extra practice, I’d suggest going to the French restaurant in town. The family that owns it is right from Lyon and you can ask them to speak only French with you, if you want.”

“Is it open tonight?” asked Helene.

“I think so. Why?”

Helene grinned mischievously. “Come home with me quick and change, and then we’re going out. I’m going to need you to translate. Unless you have other plans?”

Sonya shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Beaming, Helene took her hand and dragged her away, just as she had that first night. Sonya had no choice but to follow. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I started this 8 months ago and then abandoned it and randomly decided to publish it today without editing or anything just to get it out of my drafts lol. If anyone likes it I might finish it, but I kinda lost interest since leaving the fandom but yea idk. you can find me on tumblr at [roguejedis](http://roguejedis.tumblr.com/links)


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